For a moment Nick glared at Patches, speechless. Then, to the amazement of every cowboy in the corral, the big man mumbled a surly something, and took down his riata to rope the calf and disclaim his ownership of the animal.
Jim Reid shook his head in puzzled doubt.
The cowboys were clearly divided.
"He's too good a hand for a tenderfoot," argued one; "carried that off like an old-timer."
"'Tain't like Nick to lay down so easy for anybody," added another.
"Nick's on to something about Mr. Patches that we ain't next to," insisted a third.
"Or else we're all bein' strung for a bunch of suckers," offered still another.
"You boys just hold your horses, an' ride easy," said Curly. "My money's still on Honorable Patches."
And Bob added his loyal support with his cheerful "Me, too!"
"It all looked straight enough," Jim Reid admitted to the Dean that evening, "but I can't get away from the notion that there was some sort of an understanding between your man an' that damned Tailholt Mountain thief. It looked like it was all too quiet an' easy somehow; like it had been planned beforehand."